


Burn

by Writegirl



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Bonding, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Missing Scene, This is Not How You Make Friends, Well - Freeform, sometimes it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 18:57:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7519517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writegirl/pseuds/Writegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>‘Always keep a blanket in your trunk,’ was one of the few things her momma told her that managed to be worth something. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burn

**Author's Note:**

> Missing scene for 'He Gone'.

                The first thing that hit her when she cleared the back porch wasn’t sunlight, it was the smell. Something roasted beyond char lingering in the air at the front of the church while a few wisps of smoke curled around the building. _Don’t,_ Tulip told herself even as she moved towards it. _Whatever Jesse did, it’s his own business and none of yours._ But if he did it to Cassidy…well… that was another matter entirely. Cassidy was her first vampire, the first thing that she could point to and say ‘yeah, there’s more to life than what’s in front of me’. He couldn’t fuck worth a damn but he seemed okay otherwise, and she wouldn’t leave him to the so-called tender mercies of her jackass boyfriend and whatever tear he was on.

                “Cassidy?” she called, rolling her shoulders and marching to the front of the building. The smell got worse as she approached, made the burger and hash browns in her stomach turn sickly sweet and sour.

                This wasn’t her first rodeo. Hell, it wasn’t even her first burned up corpse, but seeing what was Cassidy crumpled and smoking in the shadow of the church made her want to get her gun and shoot Jesse in the ass because there was no way he wasn’t somehow responsible for what she was seeing. She only knew it was Cassidy because she recognized was the remains of the sweatpants he’d worn minutes before smoking around his ankles. Everything else was blackened and smoking, the round skull with its death’s head grin staring at her. How the hell Jesse managed to burn a grown man that severely in less than five minutes she couldn’t understand. She couldn’t smell gasoline, and she doubted Cassidy would have stood still long enough to be covered in it. The conversation she had with the vampire flashed through her mind. Shapeshifting and crosses were out, but sunlight? Sunlight was legit, and she doubted a vampire would just take off his shirt and waltz into it.

_He can make you do things…just by telling you to…_

                “Jesus fucking Christ.” How the hell were they going to explain this to anybody? ‘Sorry, officer, one of our parishioners forgot to put on sunblock?’ Spontaneous human combustion? They were deep in Texas, but she doubted the sheriff would believe in a good old-fashioned smiting out of the clear blue sky. Tulip put her hands on her hips and half-turned towards the church. Fucking Jesse Custer. “Jesus fucking _Christ._ ”

                “-lip?”

                “Shit!” She fell backward, rocky ground scratching her ass despite her skirt. The chest moved slow and shallow like he was breathing, and she knew he was a vampire but this? “Cassidy?”

                “-elp...”  It was barely a breath of sound.     

                ‘Always keep a blanket in your trunk,’ was one of the few things her momma told her that managed to be worth something. Random picnics or sex aside, they were always good for mopping up fluids or moving corpses. Or in this case, the not quite dead but damn-near, still smoking husk of the vampire she’d fucked a few nights ago.

                “Okay, we’re gonna do this nice and easy,” Tulip said as she spread the thick quilt out next to the vampire. “Just…” she huffed. “Don’t bite me, or nuthin’.”

                She tried to think of a place she could touch him without causing more damage but gave up. "One..." she put her hand on his waist and tried not to gag as the blackened flesh gave way, leaking still-warm fluid over her hands. "Two..."

                Tulip froze when she heard the back door open and close, followed by footsteps on the stairs that were too light for Jesse. Emily, then. His little miss perfect. God knew the woman would run screaming if she knew even half of what Jesse Custer got up to before trying to drag her shit heel town back from the brink. Tulip didn’t move again until she heard the sound of a car door open and close, the hum of an engine and the gravel-filled hiss of tires on hard-packed Texas ground.

                And still no sign of Jesse.

                Rolling what was left of the vampire into the blanket wasn’t hard. Whatever weight he’d had felt like it’d all been burned off. “You owe me big time for this,” she half groaned as she dragged the rolled bundle to her car. Whatever he said in answer was muffled by the blanket, but she pretended it was ‘Yes, Tulip. Anything for you, Tulip.'

                 It took ten minutes, a lot of swearing, and a few apologies to get Cassidy into the backseat, careful to make sure he was still rolled and protected from the sun. Tulip slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door, eyes on the back of the church. _Come on, Jesse. Peek out a window, throw a bottle from the belfry and tell me to get the fuck on. Something._

                After a minute she jammed her car into gear and took off. Based on what happened at the hospital Cassidy needed blood and a hell of a lot of it.

 

 

                Turned out, getting her hands on a hell of a lot of fresh blood was a big fucking problem.

                First, slaughter houses weren’t really keen on collecting the one part of their animals they couldn’t really sell. The only butcher in town told her it could take a week, but he could order it from some place back east.

                “What about what you’ve got here?” She asked, gesturing to the raw meat on display. “Just… hang it up, press it… something.”

                Fifty bucks and a promise not to tell any lawmen about where she got it later, Tulip left the store with just over a gallon of blood, which wasn’t nearly enough. Which was how she found herself spending the rest of the afternoon on the phone.

                “$750?”

                “Yes, ma’am.”

                Tulip paced in her uncle’s backyard. “$750 for a pig? You’re shittin’ me.”

                “No, ma’am.” The man was calm enough to set her teeth on edge. “That’s about $500 for the hanging weight, then another $185 for butchering and processing.”

                “I don’t need it butchered,” she clarified for what felt like the fifth time. “I need it alive.”

                There was silence, then, “You need a four hundred pound pig alive?”

                _I am not gonna throw this phone,_ Tulip promised herself. _I am not gonna throw this phone at a fucking wall if one more dumb, hick farmer asks me another dumbfuck question…_ “Yes.”

                “Ma’am, you’ll have to provide transport of the animal from our farm to… wherever you want the pig, which means renting a livestock trailer. We rent them at $100 per day-“

                Tulip hung up. She didn’t throw her phone. She did pick up one of the empty bottles that littered the patio and threw _that_ at the wall. The sound of shattering glass was satisfying, but it also started Belinda’s two dogs barking.

                “Oh, shut up!” She yelled, which only made the dogs bark louder. She picked up another bottle and paused, then set it down. She looked at the sky, the sun still burning bright and cheerful, then shook her head. “This is what you get, Tulip,” she muttered as she dialed. “This is what you get for fucking around with fucking _vampires_ and god damned Jesse Custer.”

                “Information. City and state.”

                Tulip heaved a sigh. “Annville, Texas. I need the number to the closest animal shelter.”

               

                She waited until midnight to crack open the door to the back bathroom armed with a mop and bucket full of water, a trash can, and two gallons of bleach. She rolled the can in front of the door and took a deep breath. “Cassidy?” she called.

                “I’m here.”

                She opened the door wider and shoved the cleaning supplies in, ignoring the smell and the gore that painted the stretch of tiled floor she could see. “Clean up after yourself,” she ordered after pushing the supplies inside. “I’ll put some of my uncle’s clothes by the door.”

                Tulip spent the next hour removing any trace of Booster from the house, not that there was much of one to start with. She stared at the remains of the dog food (chopped up sirloin and rice) before dumping it down the garbage disposal, then scrubbing down the kitchen counters. That done, she checked on her uncle. Earlier Walter only blinked when she led the bloodhound into the backyard before turning his full attention back to his bottle of Jack Daniels. Now he was in his usual position: passed out on the couch, empty bottle dangling from his fingertips as The Price is Right droned on in the background.

                With a deep sigh, Tulip leaned against the cracked kitchen counter, ignoring the pain as a sharp piece of tile dug into her palm. She turned her head to look out the window and caught the eyes of her reflection. Everything seemed so simple when she came up with the plan. Steal some shit, find out where Carlos was, and tell Jesse. In her imagination he jumped at the chance to settle the score and pay that lying, thieving, murdering sack of shit back in kind. Afterward, he would realize how stupid it was playing at being a preacher in a town too stupid to die and they’d leave Annville once and for all. Maybe drive down to Chalacatepec, drink palomas and make love under the stars.

                She should have known the plan would turn to shit.

                Tulip went upstairs when she heard the door to the back bathroom open, followed by the trundling of the trashcan. The only good thing about having an uncle who spent most of his time black-out drunk was he didn’t throw out much of anything. She stepped over a pair of shoes with run-over heels and reached inside his closet for the light switch and grimaced when the bulb swung on its cord, shadows stretching and distorting as it moved. She hated bare lightbulbs, especially bare lightbulbs hanging from rickety chains a bad day away from setting the whole house on fire. She reached up and steadied the bulb before the fixture grew too hot to touch and started digging. In a few minutes, she found a shirt with only a little dust collected on the shoulders that wouldn’t swamp Cassidy’s skinny frame and a pair of pants that might work with a good belt.

                He’d have to settle for an extension cord.

                Downstairs the usual smells of unwashed body, old food, and alcohol were overpowered by bleach. The shower was going in the bathroom, so she set the clothes outside the door, settled onto her bed with a bottle of whiskey, and waited.

                By the time the vampire emerged from the bathroom (and she was wrong, that shirt made him look like a kid playing in his grandfather’s closet) a quarter of the bottle and half a joint were gone. She blew a smoke ring in Cassidy's direction before snuffing her joint out in a chipped cup plate.

                “Havin’ a party?” he asked quietly as he settled on the opposite edge of the bed, shoulders hunched.

                Tulip shrugged. “Been that kind of day,” she answered before taking another swig.

                “Tell me about it.”

                She gave the vampire a long look. His hair was mostly stubble, his skin red, but it looked like Booster did the job. Cassidy could pass for a moron who fell asleep outside and got a bad sunburn if you ignored the still-hungry aura that clung to him.

                Cassidy cleared his throat. “Thanks fer the blood… and the pooch…”

                “Booster.”

                “Yeah. Good ol' Booster.”

                The sound of Family Feud drifted in from the living room, mixed with the bleach-laden steam pouring from the bathroom and made the air heavy and close. She should have opened a window. It was hot enough that she felt like she was suffocating. She took another drink from her bottle before holding it in her hands, thumb worrying the label. “Did he make you do it?"

                Cassidy stared at her for a long moment, that aura of hunger intensifying. Tulip swallowed around the lump in her throat, but she made herself meet his eyes. She’d seen Jesse do a lot of bad shit. Watched him smash and grab, beat the hell out of people, shoot them when necessary. But make someone set themselves on fire? That was a level of crazy he’d never reached before.

                “No, love,” Cassidy rasped. “Wanted to make a point, is all.”

                She blinked. “Some point.”

                He raised an arm. “At least the bastard put me out. I think. Felt like retardant, anyway.”

                “Hmm…” she took another swig out of her whiskey bottle. “Jesse’s nose, that was you?”  
                Cassidy chuckled, but it was a hollow, forced sound. “Someone needed ta smack the arsehole in the face.” He reached out a hand and made grabby fingers at her bottle.

                She passed it to him with a wary eye. “You sure you should be drinking rotgut so soon after…” she used both hands to gesture to the quilt tumbled in the corner and the pieces of flaked, charred flesh that stained it.

                Cassidy followed her gaze, then quirked an eyebrow. “I just ate a hound 'cause me best mate's an arse," he said, raising the bottle. "Is there a better time?”

                Tulip leaned back against the headboard. “Got me there.”

               

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I actually started writing this last week, after He Gone. Originally, I planned on Tulip stealing a neighbor's dog to feed to Cassidy (the woman who shakes her head at her Uncle laying passed out on his porch) but the show gave us Booster and I ran with it.


End file.
